


Life's More Painless for the Brainless

by grlnamedlucifer



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-11
Updated: 2007-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grlnamedlucifer/pseuds/grlnamedlucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When he did finally get his brain back, the first thing that Ambrose remembered was the Queen's name. </p>
<p>The second was that he'd forgotten it in the first place."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's More Painless for the Brainless

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started off as a Glitch/Cain fic, but veered off while writing it and it's mostly gen now. The G/C is still there if you're looking for it, but it's more sub than text now. Implies some unrequited Ambrose/Queen as well.

Exactly one month after the eldest princess of the realm had been rid of the witch and the youngest princess found, the Queen had announced a ball in honor of both of her daughters' return.

Exactly three weeks, two days, seven hours, and twenty minutes after the surgery to reacquaint Ambrose with his brain had been successful, the only reason Ambrose was attending the party was because it had been a request from the Queen herself. Well, perhaps not actually a request. _It's time to stop avoiding everyone_ , had been her exact words.

Ambrose, unfortunately, could never bring himself to say no to the Queen.

Especially not when she put things like that.

It wasn't that he was avoiding everyone, except for the way that, yes, that was exactly what he was doing. But more than that, he was avoiding everything. Avoiding his friends. Avoiding remembering. Avoiding thinking. Just... avoiding.

Or trying to anyway.

Succeeding was a different story.

When he was Glitch - forgetful, half-brained, head-case Glitch - the first thing he thought he'd do once he got his brain back was to just think. To think and think and then sit and think some more. All of that memory, right there for the taking instead of searching and searching and coming up blank, only to have forgotten what it was he'd been trying to remember in the first place. It would be different, once he put himself back together again. He'd be able to remember that when someone was calling his name, it meant him. He'd be able to remember who it was that he was talking to, without introducing himself all over again. He'd be able to remember what it was he was talking about. He'd just be able to _remember_.

When he did finally get his brain back, the first thing that Ambrose remembered was the Queen's name.

The second was that he'd forgotten it in the first place.

After that, it was like a floodgate had opened inside his head. Things he'd invented that had been twisted, ones that had exploded in his face all on their own, things he had forgotten that could have made D.G.'s quest that much easier, decisions he'd counseled the Queen on that had gone horribly wrong, his unthinking one that lead them into Airofday's trap. Things he'd done, things he didn’t do, things he should've remembered but couldn't. If there were good memories in the mix, they didn't register, lost amongst the tidal wave of guilt, from Ambrose and Glitch both.

Now he wanted to do anything _but_ remember. But the Queen needed her advisor back and he tried to welcome the idea of getting lost in his work. However, even as his mind raced to come up with new inventions to solve any number of problems they'd seen along the road, he now had to factor into the equation the new variable of 'and how could this be used for evil if my brain was taken again'. He'd already discarded dozens of plans after finding no satisfactory answer. A Sunseeder for the witch, a lightning rod for Raw and Kalm, a TDESPHTL for Cain, and who knows what else. His inventions seemed to have caused just as much pain as Azkadellia's magic, and when he recalled the pride he'd had in finishing each it made him sick.

And beyond all of that, _he'd forgotten her name_.

Rationality told him that there was no reason for him to feel guilty for that. He hadn't even remembered his own name, after all. He had no choice over which of his memories remained and, if he had, he knew he would have chosen the machine over a name, even hers. Logic said that the Queen wouldn't blame him for that. But he hadn't exactly been on speaking terms with rationality and logic for a while now and, weak with neglect, they did nothing to stop his heartbreak.

Maybe Cain was right and he had been too much of a wide-eyed optimist. It had been foolish to think that simply getting his mind back, his memory back, would solve everything. If he'd been in his right mind, he would've seen that that was far from the truth with D.G. Her memories had saved them in the end, but he still had watched her sobbing when she finally remembered leaving her sister to the witch. If he'd been in his right mind, he would've taken the looks on everyone's faces after watching his memories as a warning. One that said that his memories, once remembered, would be just as painful.

But that had been the point. He wasn't in his right mind.

And now that he was, he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

But he couldn't say no to the Queen, even now, and he couldn't have missed the princess' ball without an excuse he didn't have anyways. So, newly acquired existential crisis in tow, he had shown up, as promised. And that was about as far as he'd gotten, before he'd started to quietly panic.

On one side of the floor he could see Cain leaning against the wall, watching his son dancing with D.G., watching Raw talking with little Kalm. On the other, the Queen talking and smiling with her subjects, her husband proudly watching on. Ambrose wanted to join his friends. To celebrate D.G. finding her home and her family again, to thank Raw for his help, to ask Cain what he was going to do, now that he was free to be a tin man again if he wanted, now that he'd found his son. He wanted to join the Queen. To thank her for taking him back after everything, to see if she was really alright, to smack her husband for abandoning the rest of them and kidnapping D.G. when his plan went south, even though he knew he'd never actually do that. He wanted to run from the room, to go and hide in his blueprints and plans, to not have to face the world, to not have to find out whether it was Glitch or Ambrose that everyone wanted.

Unsure of which way to go, Ambrose instead just watched, feeling like an outsider in his own skin. And then, somehow, he'd latched onto Azkadellia as the lesser of an innumerable amount of evils.

The irony didn't escape him.

He was just avoiding again, of course, but it wasn't as if she was doing any different. After her parents had shown her off to a wary crowd, he'd watched as Azkadellia had gotten as far away as she possibly could while being in the same room. He could see the same lost expression on her face as he knew was on his, the same guilt. They'd been drawn to each other, though neither admitted why. They didn’t say anything at all, actually. There were no questions about the other's past because neither wanted to remember their own. There were no offers of forgiveness, because they both believed themselves the guilty party. They could have been alone with themselves for all the difference it made, but while they danced together they could pretend that what they were really doing had nothing to do with ignoring everyone else. An escape for them both, he tried to convince himself. Wallowing in misery together, his brain supplied.

Either way, it didn't matter. As long as it was just them, they didn't have to think. Didn't have to decide.

Then her father tapped him on the shoulder. And suddenly the decision was taken out of their hands as they both found themselves dancing with the last people they wanted to be faced with.

\-----

"Is everything alright, Ambrose?"

To her credit, the Queen had waited until the first song had ended, giving him time to calm down enough that he didn't bolt from the room. He wondered idly whether her husband had even given Azkadellia that.

"Of course, Majesty," he replied, mentally patting himself on the back for how collected he sounded, before becoming annoyed that he now had to try to do things that had once come naturally. Pushing that aside, he continued, "The witch is gone, D.G. and Azkadellia are home, and Your Majesty is free again. How could anything not be alright now?"

"Thanks to you."

"Merely doing my job, Your Majesty." He shrugged off the unwanted praise. He certainly didn't deserve it for destroying something he himself had created.

"Considering you did not even remember your job, I somehow think it was more than merely that."

"It was for D.G." he said simply, as if that explained everything.

The Queen must have thought it did, because she smiled at that. "And your brain?"

Ambrose looked confusedly at her. "I'm sorry?"

"You mentioned myself and my daughters, but nothing of yourself. Surely having your mind whole again brings you some joy. Was it not what you wanted?"

"I..." Was it? He was hardly sure anymore. It certainly didn't feel that way. "I can't say I expected to ever get it back when it was taken.” He frowned, realizing how that sounded. That somehow getting his brain back made his sacrifice worth less. That wasn't why he had done it, to be known as a martyr. He'd done it because it had been the right thing to do.

_"But she was happy to make the sacrifices she thought were right. We should all love someone that much."_

His own remembered words made him stumble, his natural grace failing momentarily. It had been the right thing to do. After the weeks of guilt, he'd managed to convince himself otherwise because the plans had still been taken from him, but that didn't change the fact that it had been right. He could have easily told Azkadellia, could have saved himself. But he didn't. That made a difference... didn't it?

"Ambrose?" They had stopped dancing and the Queen was looking at him with concern in her eyes. He blinked. He'd forgotten for a moment where he was.

"Forgive me, Majesty. I supposed I'm still getting used to..." He trailed off, not knowing what to add. Having a brain? Being able to retain a thought? "Being myself," he finished, lamely.

"Ambrose." She put her hand tenderly to his cheek and, though he tried to hide it, he felt his face grow hot. "You have never _stopped_ being yourself. You protected my daughter, as you always have. You helped her on her way, as you've always done for me. You are the smartest man I've ever known, and none of that changed when you made your sacrifice."

It sounded remarkably like what D.G. had told him and, not knowing what to say, he found himself looking over to the princess again. She'd somehow managed to rope Cain into dancing with her - the pain-filled look on his face assured that it hadn't been voluntary. And it was... well, it was just as painful to watch, to put it bluntly.

The man simply had no rhythm whatsoever.

_"When I had a brain, I was twice as scared as I am now with only half a brain."_ Well he'd certainly proved that true so far, hadn't he? What exactly was he afraid of anyway? So what if the others really did decide they wanted Glitch, not Ambrose? Could it really hurt as badly as imagining it did? And if it did, well... he'd already spent weeks deciding he deserved it. Might as well get it over with, right?

Ambrose stepped back, then bowed. "If you'll excuse me, Majesty, I... I think I'd like to join my friends." He tried not to look nervous as he waited for her answer, realizing belatedly how it might look a bit like he was running away.

But the Queen merely smiled knowingly. "I'm sure they've missed you," she said. Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek, then let him go. "I know I have."

\-----

It took three laps around the floor before Ambrose finally worked up enough courage to approach the dancing - and here he used the word lightly - pair. "Excuse me," Ambrose said, tapping D.G. on her shoulder. She smiled at him as she turned around, and he tried to not look as nervous as he actually was about talking to either of them for the first time in weeks. "Mind if I cut in?"

Before D.G. could reply, Cain let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank the gods."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, princess," Cain said, sounding not at all sorry. "Ask me to jump in front of a bullet for you and I'm there, but dancing's another story, kid."

"Right, because dancing with me is such a torture, I'm sure."

"Hey, if you enjoy getting your feet bruised from my stepping on 'em, that's not my problem."

"As entertaining as all this banter is," Ambrose said, jumping back in the conversation, "I was actually asking _Cain_."

The statement was met with two identical looks of disbelief. D.G., expectedly, recovered first. "Ooooh. Well, in that case," she grinned, stepping back with her arms out, "please! Be my guest!"

"No, don't be her guest. I'm not dancing." Cain looked pointedly at Ambrose and added, "with either of you."

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought it was Raw who had the problem with nerve."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Cain shot back.

"Nerve. Courage. Bravery. Valor. Pluck-"

"Okay, okay," D.G. laughed, throwing her hands up. "I know when I'm not needed. You boys play nice, I'm gonna go see what my sister's up to."

They watched as D.G. walked away, then Cain turned back with a grin. "Looks like I owe you one, Gl- Ambrose."

"That makes two, actually," he pointed out, laughing a little nervously. Now that D.G. was gone his teasing good mood had suddenly deflated, courage following after it, and an awkward silence rose up between them. Glitch would have gone off on a tangent by now, or maybe another embarrassing discussion about rhythm, but Ambrose wasn't sure how to press forward without making a fool of himself.

Thankfully, Cain broke the ice first.

"Haven't seen hide nor hair of you since your... rebrainment."

It was said casually enough, but Ambrose imagined that he heard accusation in it. "I wasn't exactly sure any of you would want me around afterwards."

"What? Why wouldn't we?" Cain looked genuinely confused at that, and Ambrose was confused at his confusion.

"Well, I mean, I remember what I'm like now, and what I was like then, and I know I'm not like that. Ambrose wasn't Glitch, and Glitch certainly wasn't Ambrose because I'm quite certain, for one, that I wouldn't be stupid enough to fall into a trap made by two-foot tall ankle-bitters dressed like turkeys, let me tell you. And-" Cain's hand was suddenly covering his mouth and it was only then that he noticed he was rambling. Ambrose didn't ramble, Glitch did. Glitch said every thought that popped into his head in the hopes that someone would remember it for him. But he was supposed to be fixed now, he was supposed to be back to the man he used to be. What happened to the calm and collected Ambrose he'd been all of five minutes ago with the Queen?

"You done?" Cain asked after a moment.

Ambrose nodded his head, valiantly resisting the ridiculously childish urge to lick the palm covering his mouth. When Cain took his hand back, Ambrose finished, "What I mean is, I know I'm not exactly the head-case you knew before."

"That's certainly up for debate. Look," and then Cain got that pained 'No, I'm heartless, really, don't make me talk about my feelings' expression he always got right before talking about exactly that. "I never thought I'd be saying this to _you_ of all people, but you're over-thinking this. People change all the time. Last I saw my son, he was this sweet, innocent kid. Next time I see him, he's grown and more cynical than I am. You think I love him any less, just because he's different? Same deal with you." Glitch raised his eyebrow, fairly certain Cain hadn't actually meant for that to come out the way it had, but Cain continued on as if he hadn't noticed. "No one's gonna blame you for being a little different after getting your marbles back."

_"You have never_ stopped _being yourself."_

It wasn't exactly what he'd been worried about, not really. It wasn't just a matter of a personality change that had him avoiding the others. But hearing Cain say that, Ambrose could already feel relief washing over him.

_"Nifty little thing. Hey, I think I invented it!"_

The relief faded away just as quickly as it had come. "How did you do it, Cain?" At Cain's questioning glance, he added, "How did you keep helping us, keep doing what you were doing when you knew that working against Azkadellia was exactly what got your family-" Ambrose stopped, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Is the O.Z. being at peace worth it?" Cain asked, interrupting his apology.

"What?"

"Everything we've done. Is it worth Azkadellia being rid of the witch? Is D.G. being home with her family again worth it?" Cain nodded his head over to where Ambrose had come from. "Is the Queen being free worth it?"

Ambrose looked in the direction Cain had nodded, watching for a moment as the Queen danced with her husband. They looked so happy to be together again that he could almost ignore the familiar pain in his chest. "Yes," he said quietly. Anything was worth that.

"Then that's how you keep doing it." Cain reached up and put his hand on Ambrose's shoulder. "Sit around feeling guilty and none of that gets done."

Ambrose smiled. Maybe he did know what was wrong, after all. "You've been going to get some of that psychiatric help I mentioned, haven't you."

Cain laughed, throwing his arm around Ambrose's shoulders. "We're all screw-ups, Glitch. At least we're in good company."

"You called me Glitch."

Cain shrugged. "Sorry. Takes some time getting used to 'Ambrose,' I guess."

"No, it's..." He stopped, shaking his head. Looking out at the dancers again, he smirked. "You know, if I remember correctly - and, you know, I can do that now - someone promised me a dance."

The expression on Cain's face reminded him of when he'd been firing at the papay and realized he didn't have any bullets. "Think a few of those synapses of yours are still not firing right."

The smirk turned into a grin. “No, no, no. I distinctly remember you saying yes, as long as you could lead."

"We were talking about fighting, not dancing, and you know that."

"If you don't think that dancing can be fighting, then you've clearly never seen a proper tango."

Cain tried to slip his arm away, but Ambrose grabbed his hand before he could get too far. "Ambrose-"

"Come on," he interrupted, pulling Cain towards their friends. "One dance. I'll even let you lead, even though it's a sin to waste my fine talent when you dance as if you were actually made of tin."

"Ambrose-"

"The name's Glitch." He turned back quickly enough to catch the smile on Cain's face before it was hidden away again.

The resisting tin man was a little less resisting after that, letting Ambrose... Glitch... whoever he was pull him out onto the dance floor. Maybe it should have been a little embarrassing or awkward or something, but it just wasn't. And as he started dancing, he saw D.G. pulling her sister out, just as he'd just done with Cain, and the small smile on Azkadellia's face as he caught her eye made him smile in return.

So maybe he was still Glitch. And maybe he was Ambrose too. And maybe there hadn't ever really been a difference. And maybe he ought to feel guilty, and maybe none of it had been his fault to begin with. And maybe none of it mattered and maybe it all did.

With their friends around them and everyone Ambrose or Glitch or whoever he was now had cared about safe, for the first time since he'd been put back together both halves of himself finally agreed on something.

It had been the right thing to do.

It was worth it.

And he wouldn't have changed a thing.


End file.
